


Ghost In My Head

by miilkteeth



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, Yogscast
Genre: M/M, no gore dw, undead au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7468683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miilkteeth/pseuds/miilkteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Alex Smith didn't mean to become undead.</p><p>He didn't mean to fall down the stairs. He didn't mean to break his neck. He didn't mean to end up making the deal. </p><p>It all just kinda...happened?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

Alex Smith didn't  _mean_ to become undead.

He didn't  _mean_ to fall down the stairs. He didn't  _mean_ to break his neck. He didn't  _mean_ to end up making the deal. 

It all just kinda...happened?

Nonetheless, there he sat in a tree watching his own funeral unfold before his eyes. The empty coffin was lowered into the dirt as his mother stood holding a tissue to her eyes with his father comforting her. She'd been distraught ever since the death of her son and it was visible that his father was as well. Smith's siblings stood sombre watching over the grave, the clouds casting a shadow over the cemetery. His extended family were there as well; aunts & uncles he'd never met, cousins that he'd had brief interactions with too.

Then on the edge of the circle stood Chris Trott. 

Smith and Trott had been friends for years. They'd practically grown up together and knew all there was to know about one another. Trott knew Smith's darkest secrets and Smith knew Trott's. When they were younger they would sit around playing video games and talking about their futures. Trott wanted to go into media, as did Smith, and they always planned on being famous together. Their friendship was a special bond that couldn't be broken.

Unlike a neck.

Trott was the first - and only - person to know. After Smith's _ordeal_  with getting his life back, the first place he went to was Trott's in Bristol. He couldn't go back to his own apartment building because his family might see him so he needed somewhere to live for a while. His job wasn't exactly earning him great money meaning he couldn't get a new apartment. They didn't really disturb each other and Trott didn't mind. Smith would go out to work at 10pm and come back at 4am. He'd sleep until 1pm and then play games for a few hours before Trott got home. Then the two would have dinner (usually takeaway) and Trott would go to bed while Smith went back out.

That was their daily routine. Smith and Trott had small windows where they saw each other but usually Trott was tired out of his mind. When they did see each other they would play video games together, talk about death and talk about life. Sometimes Trott would go out with his girlfriend Katie, and so Smith would be left to himself. Him living in Bristol meant it was a lot easier for him to go out. He could be seen in public without worrying that it was a family member that would discover the fact that he wasn't in a grave 6 feet underground. 

Back at the funeral Smith watched over everyone mourning him. The ceremony had been quiet and simple, a few flowers but not too many. His mother spoke but got too choked up to go on. The coffin had been closed - something to do with it being a particularly nasty fall. They went outside and down the coffin went into the mud. After everyone had funnelled out of the cemetery, Smith jumped down from the tree with a somewhat messy landing. He stumbled a bit as his feet hit the ground but steadied himself at the nearest tree. A small clap started from behind him and he turned to see Trott standing there.

"Nice one mate. Absolutely brilliant," Trott said in a deadpan voice.

"Shut up," Smith mumbled, thinking of a comeback. "At least I can jump out a tree."

"Wow," Trott's tone became more sarcastic and he held up an ok sign with his hand. "Grade A comeback."

Smith frowned and walked over to his friend. They made their way out of the cemetery and back to Trott's car.

"So how was it?" Trott asked, turning to Smith in the passenger seat.

"How was what?" Smith looked quizzically at his friend.

"You know?" Trott made gestures with his hands urging Smith on as they pulled out of the car park.

"No?" Smith questioned back. Trott just rolled his eyes and gave an overdramatic sigh.

"Your funeral? The thing where a coffin got lowered into a grave?" Trott explained. Smith turned to face the road. His eyes bore into the concrete, focusing on every road marking as they flew past.

"S'okay." He replied in a quieter voice.

"You seem upset. Do you want to talk about it?" Trott lowered his voice to the same volume and leaned a little further towards Smith, looking at him from the the edge of his vision. He just turned away more, finished with the conversation. Trott gave an 'alright' and went back to looking at the road however every so often he glanced back over to the cold, unresponsive Smith. The rest of the car journey back to their hotel went by in silence. It was a fairly long journey, they had to pick somewhere no one would recognise Smith even if he had his hood pulled right over his face.

By the time they got there the sun was just starting to set. The crappy hotel lay a 20 minute drive outside of the main town but it was cheap and they were only staying one more night anyway. After that they would go back to Bristol and Smith's old life would officially be over. No more going home, no more seeing his family, no more Sunday night dinners with his parents, none of it. He didn't know if the idea of never seeing his family again hurt worse than the dull ache in his neck. He just had to get used to it. He was undead now and there wasn't really anything he could do.

Trott parked in the first space he could find and they walked in dead silence up to their room. They got ready to sleep with Smith preparing his makeshift sofa-bed and Trott preparing his actual bed. They hadn't spoken since they left the cemetery and Smith decided to break the silence.

"I'm sorry for ignoring you Trott, it's just..." he struggled to find the words to say as Trott looked up to him expectantly,"difficult."

Trott's features softened and he walked over, putting his hand on Smith's shoulder in a comforting motion,"Don't worry. You're - well - alive as you could be right now. If you don't want to talk about it then I won't push but if you need to than I'm, here."

Smith smiled and nodded before taking the pyjamas he packed and heading into the small bathroom to change. When he came back out, Trott was pretty much passed out on his bed. Smith just scoffed and got into his own "bed". He lay awake for a bit, thinking over the events of the day. It had certainly been a crazy ride but he wasn't sure what to do now. The funeral was the only thing he'd been working towards and now there was just nothing.  

For now he turned away from the lights that were coming through the curtains and shut his eyes. Attempting to get some decent rest before the long drive back.


	2. Going Home

The next morning, Smith awoke in a cold sweat as he had every night for the past week. Nightmares continually haunted him but that's what you get when you come back from the dead. 

He checked the time on his phone and the screen showed that it was 3am. With no intentions of going back to sleep, he pulled himself off the couch and walked into the bathroom. When he looked into the mirror he no longer saw the person that he used to be. His eyes were darker, his skin whiter, his hair scruffier, his beard messier and his overall appearance was worn down. He knew he'd get his colour back but for the time being he really did look undead. Smith splashed his face with water to wake himself up a bit then took a quick shower. 

Once he was dressed he scribbled down a quick note for Trott - just in case he woke up - and grabbed some money from his bag. 

_Going to the petrol station across the road. - Smith_

There was only one person in the petrol station and she looked positively bored out of her mind. Stood behind the counter, she flipping through a magazine and didn't even look up when Smith walked in. He made a beeline for the sandwiches and picked up two basic ham ones. The girl at the checkout only looked up when he was standing in front of her and coughing to get her attention. As she looked up to see this tall, unnaturally pale man with a beard that looked like it hadn't been shaved in months, her expression turned to slight fear and scanned his items as quickly as she could. 

He sat on the couch back in their hotel room eating the sandwich as quietly as possible. Trott was still asleep - after all it was still only 3.25am - and Smith was bored. He couldn’t go on Twitter or talk to any of his other friends so was reduced to playing games on his phone. Once he got bored of that, he was going to watch some videos but he’d left his headphones at his apartment and he couldn’t go back there…

When Trott finally woke up it was about 10am and Smith had been sitting in a dream-like state staring out of the small window in the box room. Trott had to physically shake him to get himself noticed.

“You alright mate?” Trott asked. Smith nodded and yawned, turning his attention away from the window and towards his small friend.

“Yeah, I’ve already showered and eaten so we can leave when you’re ready,” Smith said in a tired voice. Trott just nodded and walked into the bathroom to get ready. When he emerged, Smith handed him the ham sandwich. Trott took it and ate as they both packed in silence - neither of them acknowledging the elephant in the room.

As it got to midday the two walked out to Trott’s car, Smith making sure to stay somewhat hidden.

"So what was the whole deal with you coming back to life?" The smaller of the two asked cautiously yet curiously as they started to drive away.

"Does it really matter?" Smith replied.

"I guess not..." Trott trailed off. The two sat in silence for ten minutes before Trott reached over for the radio and fiddled with it while he drove. Finally, he settled on a generic station that seemed to be playing the same songs over and over. It was better than silence. Smith hadn't told Trott exactly how he came back and, fortunately for him, Trott hadn’t actually asked until now. It was how Smith wanted to keep it. Most of the car journey was void of talking. Occasionally one of them would make a comment about the songs - usually Trott - but inane pop songs filled mainly filled the car.

Once they arrived back in Bristol at around 2pm, Smith ordered some pizza for him, Trott and now Katie who had come round. He managed to pay for it with some money he’d scraped together from late night shifts at the shop.

“I’m sorry for being a dick lately Trott,” Smith smiled, turning to present Trott with the pizza like he was a king being presented his crown. “Please accept my humble apology in the form of a large, pepperoni pizza.”

Smith clumsily got down on one knee and lifted the lid off the top box. Trott did an overdramatic bow before saying, “Why of course, how could I reject your offer.”

Katie just laughed and rolled her eyes from the couch and they all sat down, switching the TV on. It was more background noise because they mostly just talked about what it was like to be back in their hometown. As they talked and reminisced, Smith found himself getting emotional over the fact that he'd never go back there. 

When it reached 3pm, Smith decided he’d go to get some more sleep before his long shift. Despite the sun still shining, he pretty much passed out straight away from sheer exhaustion. The same nightmare that he'd had every night greeted him as he got to sleep.

Just rain, footsteps and a scream.

Trott heard yelling from Smith’s room and ran in as quick as he could to calm down the shaking man. Smith’s yelling had reduced to faint whispers until Trott woke him up properly. It was still a few hours until he had work so him and Trott sat in the living room after Katie left to give them some space. They sat playing some random game from their collection until Smith had to leave, Trott patting him on the shoulder giving him a quick ‘good luck’.

However, just as he got out the door Trott yelled, “Wait!” and Smith spun around. “There’s a get together with me and some work mates next Friday, would you like to come? You know, get out of the house - flat - thing.”

“I don’t know,” Smith said warily.

“Come on,” Trott pleaded, dragging out his words.

“Mayb-“ Smith was cut off but Trott’s excitement.

“Great! I’ll tell Kim that you’ll be there, you’ll love her she’s great, also you’ll get to meet Ross and some of the other guys,” Trott gushed as Smith just laughed and walked away down the stairs from their apartment.


	3. Blush

The next few days ran on as usual. Smith and Trott occasionally seeing each other between work, catching up over reheated takeaways the other one left out. Eventually it got to the Friday of the “small get together” and Smith had managed to get the night off. He had considered not going but that would mean disappointing Trott which was pretty unfair considering all that he’d done for him. Reluctantly he stayed at home, mainly sleeping and eating, waiting for his small friend to get back from work.

When Trott got home it was about 5.30pm. Smith was lying in a questionable position on their couch, legs dangling over the back. His face had gone slightly red from being upside down and Trott just stared quizzically then shook it off like it was nothing.

“What?” Smith asked, “I was bored.”

“Whatever,” Trott shrugged. “Kim said we should get to hers for about 6. They were gonna order some food, get some drink. You know?”

“Alright just give me a minute,” Smith said, getting up and walking to his room.

“Yeah sure, take _all_ the time in the world, it’s not like you’ve been sitting around doing nothing all day,” Trott replied jokingly, rolling his eyes as Smith turned away.

To this, Smith laughed a dry laugh and entered his room. He knew he had people to impress, after all they _were_ opportunities for new friends. Back where he’d lived before he didn’t really have many. When he was a kid, he had Trott but that was the only friendship that was left. Mostly due to the fact that the friends he did have believed that he was buried six feet underground in a cemetery. New friends would be just what he needed to get back to normal - whatever that meant. All he had to do was get through this one evening and maybe he’d feel like himself again.

After spending way more time than usual on getting ready, Smith jogged out into the living room saying “come on Trotty” and pulling the smaller boy with him.

Eventually they got to Kim’s apartment after 10 minutes of Trott telling Smith that he’d be fine in there and everyone would love him. Smith wasn’t entirely convinced though but went through with it anyway because he had to. He couldn’t stay alone forever.

Kim answered the door and beamed at the sight of the two men. “Hey Trott!” she said, smiling before gesturing to the taller of the two . “I’m guessing this is Smith?”

“Yep, just moved here a few weeks ago,” he smiled back, doing an awkward wave. Much to his delight, Kim waved back and gestured for the two to go inside. As Smith walked in, he saw four other guys and another girl sitting on various couches around a small coffee table. All of them had a drink and were chatting amongst themselves until Trott and Smith walked in. They greeted Trott and said “hello” to Smith but the one face that he really focused on was in the middle of everyone else’s.

He was sat with two other guys, one had a beard the other had a lot less hair generally, and gave Smith a small smile when they made eye contact. Smith was planning on making a lot more of that same eye contact mainly for the fact that the eyes he looked into were a bright, crystal blue and he didn’t want to stop staring. Sadly he had to and turned his attention to the other people in the room.

Taking the nearest chair that didn’t look occupied, Smith sat down and was handed a drink by Trott.

“You’re Smith, right?” The one with the beard that was talking to Mr Real-Life-Angel (as Smith kept referring to him in his head) asked. Smith nodded in response as he took a swig of his drink and bearded man introduced himself. “Mark Turpin but, please, call me Turps.”

The other guy that had been in their conversation - the one with a lot less hair - laughed and mocked Turps in a bad attempt at an English accent. “Oh yes, I’m Mark Turpin,” he said, moving his hands in an overly exaggerated manner.

“Shut up, Sips,” Turps defended himself, feigning annoyance.

Most of the others introduced themselves before getting _too_ drunk (Duncan, Hannah, Sips). Except for one. Smith tried to stop looking but every so often his gaze would wander back over to Mr RLA, but then as soon as he turned his head slightly, Smith would look away as if nothing had happened.

As the night went on, Smith was bombarded with questions to “get to know him”. Boring things when they were mostly sober (e.g where did you come from?, where do you work?, how do you know Trott?, etc.). When they got more drunk, the questions went out the window and they were all just chatting about random things as if they’d been friends for their entire lives.

“Alright, alright,” Trott stuttered out in his drunken state, waving his arms in front of him in an attempt to get everyone to calm down. Once the attention was on him, he slung his arm around Smith’s shoulder, pulling him closer in a weird side-hug. Eventually Trott began to speak, slurring his words as he did so, “This guy Smith, he has _seen_ some shit, but he’s a good friend and I want my good friend to be friends with my other friends.

Smith laughed but wasn’t sure if it was at the fact that Trott was completely hammered or because he was completely hammered. Either way, he appreciated the thought in his friend’s words.

Turps raised his glass of whatever alcoholic concoction he was drinking, and exclaimed, “To Smith!”

Everyone else followed suit and then went back to their drinking/eating/talking. Smith occasionally caught the eye of Mystery-Man and winked, making him blush and look away. The more this happened, the more determined Smith was to get to know this guy - especially because he looked adorable when he blushed.

Fortunately for Smith, they ended up meeting in the kitchen together. He’d been given some loose instructions for “the best drink he’d ever have in his life” by Hannah and Smith being Smith, he wanted to try it. Stumbling slightly into the kitchen, he started mixing different drinks together - not actually sure if they were the right ones. As he reached for a straw, another hand darted in and attempted to grab the same one, causing the two to brush hands for a very brief moment. Smith turned, seeing the very man he’d been staring at most of the night. The man let go of the straw upon seeing Smith’s hand already on it.

“You can have it, I’ll get another one,” he offered, his voice a lot lower to what Smith expected.

“Nah it’s ok, it matches with you anyway,” Smith joked as he noticed the redness starting to emerge on the other man’s cheeks.

He just looked embarrassed and mumbled a “thanks”, taking the straw and walking away towards the rest of the group. Smith walked back behind him, looking over at Trott who was giving a huge thumbs up and wiggling his eyebrows frantically.

Smith honestly didn’t remember much of the night after that, briefly being able to remember having to haul Trott into the taxi back to his apartment - despite the protest from the smaller man.

Waking up the next morning wasn’t as bad as he’d expected it to be. Trott wasn’t as lucky. Smith found him in the kitchen with a glass of water and painkillers, groaning into his hand.

“Rise and shine!” Smith said enthusiastically as he ripped open the curtains much to Trott’s dismay.

“Shh, go away,” Trott whispered, using one hand to bat Smith away and the other to cover his eyes from the light that was (in his opinion) _way_ too bright for 10am.

“Not feeling too good?” Smith teased, knowing full well how Trott felt. Not getting a reply, Smith continued, “I feel pretty good, you know? Granted, I don’t really remember much, but I feel fine.”

Upon hearing that Smith didn’t remember much, Trott lifted his head slowly, wearing what could only be described as a complete and utter shit-eating grin. “Don’t even remember flirting with Ross then?” Trott feebly laughed, holding his head afterwards and walking over to the toaster to get his food.

Smith stared blankly. “Who?”

“You know, the guy you were making eyes at? Tall? Dark hair?” Trott said, trying to jog Smith’s memory.

Pretending not to know who Trott was talking about (and trying to hide the blush creeping into his cheeks), he looked away. “Nope no clue,” he murmured.

Trott laughed, seeming to feel better at his friend’s embarrassment, “Sure you don’t remember. It’s not like you were practically eye fucking him, he’s single you know? I could always set a meeting u-”

Before Trott got a chance to finish, Smith had left the room and taken the toast that was on the plate in Trott’s hand.

“Hey that was mine!” Trott attempted to yell after him. “Dick.”


	4. Falling For You

Relentless teasing any time Smith had seen Trott that day made him want to start plotting to kill his friend. He couldn’t have hidden it from him - that little shit managed to work out anything. Smith had managed to avoid him in the evening by leaving early for his shift that night.

Flight Petrol was a quiet, unassuming petrol station nearer the outskirts of Bristol. They got some business but it was never packed in there. Smith working there had been one of the 3 catches of him coming back to life. The guy who brought him back - Cyrus - had been pretty adamant about this. Something to do with keeping an eye on him, making sure he doesn’t get into trouble - whatever that meant.

As he walked into Flight Petrol, the chimes on the door sounded and a woman in her early twenties appeared out from the door behind the cash desk. Her golden hair had been messily scooped up in a pile on top of her head - some of the curled strands sticking out. She had a black uniform on with a bronze emblem of wings on the breast pocket. Her beauty seemed unworldly. Perfect dark, bronze skin and eyes that were like liquid gold.

“Alright Smith?” Felicia asked as she spotted him walk into the petrol station.

“Hey Felicia,” Smith replied, wandering into the backroom to change into the black uniform. “Anything interesting happen today?”

" _Well_ ,” Felicia started, leaning casually against the doorframe of the crappy staffroom, “A man came in a stared at me for 20 minutes straight before picking up some pot noodles, buying them and leaving.”

“Oh wow,” Smith laughed as he took up a position on one of the stools behind the counter, “Sounds a tad creepy.”

“Yeah it was kinda disconcerting,” she paused replaying the memory, “and also someone managed to drop 2 bottles of drink on the floor by the coffee machine, I got rid of the glass but there’s still some of the alcohol there…”

“And you want me to clear it up?” Smith finished for her, she simply nodded in response and passed him the bucket & mop by the desk.

He begrudgingly held out his hands to receive the cleaning tools, and shuffled over to where the alcohol had very clearly been dropped. Smith started to mop up but noticed on the other side of the large puddle in the middle of the aisle, there was some glass that Felicia had missed. Completely forgetting about the extremely wet floor beneath him, Smith stumbled over but ended up falling and knocking his head on the side of the coffee machine on the way down. A familiar feeling of slipping on wet ground began to run around his head as the world blacked out around him.  
  
When Smith opened his eyes he was back in the rain. Overcast skies loomed above him as he stood on the concrete roof. The sound of footsteps was approaching at an alarming rate and he had no idea where to go. Quickly scouting the roof from where he stood, he managed to see what seemed to be a fire escape. Being careful not to slip on the roof, he made his way over as quickly as he could. The two men were now on the roof behind him, one of them yelled that he could see Smith and they immediately started running towards him. Smith got to the fire escape and put his foot on the first rung of the ladder trying to keep as steady as he could despite the fact that he could hear his heartbeat increasing by the second and he could feel the sweat running down his face.

At the end of the short ladder, Smith jumped onto the set of steps leading down to the high street below with more agility than he thought was possible. The men were just reaching the edge of the building and he could hear laboured breathing from above. The staircase down was a long one so he began to run down it. The rain was beating down harder now, each of the steps like an ice rink below his feet. After five steps he could feel himself starting to lose his balance. As he turned the corner he couldn’t stop fast enough and collided with the railing, the force pushing him over the edge. Making the stupid decision to jump down to the next set, Smith swung his legs over the railing and pushed off. As he did so he lost his footing again and fell head first down, each fall accompanied by a loud thud.

When he finally hit the cold pavement, his body was lifeless. By the time the two burly men got down, they realised what had happened.

Smith felt a pair of hands on his shoulders and a soothing voice telling him to calm down as he felt himself jolt up in a cold sweat.

“I’m fine Felicia, don’t worry,” Smith assured the person, batting their arms away.

Instead of being greeted with the voice of his co-worker, he was instead greeted with a confused, “ _Felicia_?”

He eased his eyes open, but instead of meeting the amber gaze of his co-worker, he found himself falling again, this time into a sea of blue. “Ross?”

“I just came in so I could pay for my petrol but I heard someone fall over,” Ross explained, holding out a hand to help the other man to his feet. “I just didn’t expect it to, uh, be you.”

Smith gladly took the hand, taking the opportunity to steady himself by holding quite tightly onto Ross. “Not quite the glamorous job you thought I’d have, eh? Thought I’d be a stripper or something?” he joked but this only seemed to make Ross flustered - his pallid face flooded with a blush once again.

“No, I just, you know,” Ross struggled to find the right words, slightly distracted by the thought of Smith as a stripper, “didn’t see you working at a petrol station.”

“It’s fine, I’m just messing with you,” Smith patted him on the back, his hand lingering a bit longer than it should’ve. “I can take you over to the till, get that petrol paid for.”

As they approached the desk, Smith searched for Felicia but couldn’t see her anywhere. “That fucker,” he mumbled to himself, hopping round to the register. “Usually Felicia, my co-worker, would’ve done this but she seems to have disappeared.”

“Well, take it easy,” Ross paused to read his name badge, “Smith. Don’t want to go around falling all the time.”

He was about to leave before a quick shout of “Wait, Ross!” got his attention, causing him to spin back around.

“As maybe a, I don’t know, thank you for helping me back there, would you want to,” Smith nervously scratched his head before continuing, “get a coffee or something, sometime, whenever you’re fre- if you’re free?”

The dark haired man seemed taken aback by the sudden nervousness but not before asking, “Sorry, just wondering, how did you know my name?”

“Oh right, Trott - you know? Short guy, brown hair - he mentioned it to me,” Smith said, trying to be casual.

“So you’re the Smith I’ve heard about!” Ross realised but then saw Smith’s face sort of paled. “No! All good things, don’t worry. He said that you’re a pretty cool guy.”

“Really, did he?” Smith wondered aloud, “Well, do you want to see if his description was right?”

“Surely it would be rude not to?” Ross smiled, feeling pretty comfortable around him already despite only talking to him for a short amount of time. The two exchanged phone numbers and Ross left, leaving Smith with the biggest grin on his face.

Felicia reappeared through the station’s backdoor, immediately seeing Smith waving a piece of paper with a set of numbers on it. “So that’s the infamous Ross then?” she teased “Your Mr Right, your soulmate?.

“Christ, you’re nearly as bad as Trott,” he shot back, “How did you know about Ross anyway?”

She tapped the side of her nose in a secretive manner, “I just know, Smith, I just know.”  
“Right,” Smith said, looking at her suspiciously, “So that’s Ross, yeah I met him last night at one of Trott’s mate’s places.”

“And you clicked immediately,” Felica stated.

“We talked for all of about 30 seconds when we picked up the same straw getting drinks,” Smith scoffed, “I don’t think that was enough time to click.”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” she rolled her eyes.”It must’ve been love at first straw. You got flustered.”

“That doesn’t mean _shit_ ,” he protested.

“Just keep denying it,” Felicia turned to him, “you know I’m right.”

Smith shook his head slightly and went off to stock some of the shelves, all the while keeping what Felicia said in the back of his mind.


End file.
